


What Makes Us Human

by Lady Divine (fhartz91)



Category: Glee
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe, Angst, Anxiety, Blood and Injury, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Gun Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mystery, New York City, Oral Sex, Prostitution, Psychic Abilities, Psychic Bond, Romance, Sexual Content, Violence, character death (not Kurt or Sebastian), do not need to watch the show Sense8 to follow this, sense8 inspired
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-04-20 19:38:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4799777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/Lady%20Divine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian and Kurt are dating, in a long term relationship, enjoying life as adults, living and playing in New York City. Everything is as close to perfect for the two of them as things can be, especially for Sebastian - living off his trust fund in a penthouse with his hot as sin, up-and-coming designer boyfriend, and not a care in the world. Until one night, he'll find himself connected in a bizarre way to seven other human beings he's never met, trying to solve a mystery - the hunt for a killer and to save a life, all while trying to come to terms with his new forced membership into the collective.</p><p>(This is based off of the Netflix series Sense8, with a little loose interpretation on some of the specifics - i.e., how the collective get their powers and why, what they need to accomplish as a collective, and the fact that all the players aren't necessarily spread all over the world. Quite a few of them are in NY. Also, this story is going to focus on Kurt and Sebastian, with the other characters being satellite to the story, though their stories may end up being explored deeper in one-shots. YOU DON'T NEED TO BE FAMILIAR WITH THE SHOW SENSE8 TO FOLLOW THIS. THIS STORY EXPLAINS IT ALL.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In the Beginning

“Fuck you, Sebastian!” Kurt yells over his shoulder, storming out of the club and not looking back. He doesn’t have to. He knows he’s not alone. There’s no way his insufferable fucking boyfriend would just give him a minute to cool off. Sebastian needs to beat this subject into the ground, beat it until it’s dead, beat it until he proves that he did nothing wrong, even if everything that happened to get Kurt to the point of walking out really was Sebastian’s fault.

“Not anytime soon, sweetheart” - Sebastian smirks, sauntering nonchalantly out after him - “if you’re going to be such a bitch.”

Kurt throws his hands in the air, growling in frustration.

“Why do you _always_ do this, huh? Why?” Kurt turns around, hoping for the tiniest hint of an apology, the slightest smidgen of remorse, but all he sees is the smug, sanctimonious smile on his boyfriend’s face – the one Kurt hates more than high school, mohair, and Conservative Republicans put together. “I just wanted _one_ night. Is that so hard? _One_ night of fun with my friends, and you have to act like an asshole. Why are you always such a fucking dick to them!?”

“F.Y.I., princess, your friends are a pack of brain-dead troglodytes,” Sebastian says, catching up to Kurt when they reach Sebastian’s Jag. Sebastian looks down at the metallic white paint job and chuckles mirthlessly. He had originally wanted to buy his Jag in black – a sleek, badass sports car he could tool around town in, turn a few heads, possibly even score some unsolicited advances that he would have the pleasure of turning down. He wanted a car that epitomized who he was – sexy and untouchable.

But, no. Kurt’s favorite color for cars is white (even though his own Navigator is black, which Sebastian has yet to understand). So Sebastian got the Jag in white - paid the extra $600 on top of the sticker price to get it in white, too. Glacier White. Sebastian knew he would get trim thrown at him for at least a month from his hot boyfriend. He wouldn’t even have to lift a finger. Kurt would be begging for it when he saw Sebastian’s new white Jag.

And he did.

It was the best month of Sebastian’s life.

Sebastian looks at Kurt, bitch-face fixed tight, arms crossed, tapping his toe obnoxiously on the asphalt.

Sebastian huffs. That was months ago.

He should have gotten it in black. Maybe he can have it repainted.

“ _F.Y.I._ ,” Kurt copies in a mocking tone, “no one _forced_ you to come, alright?”

Sebastian crosses his arms, just like Kurt’s. If Kurt’s going to be childish and make fun of him, he can play that game, too. Kurt realizes what he’s doing and rolls his eyes.

“So, you don’t want me around your friends, is that it?”

“Oh, God!” Kurt sighs, long and exhausted. He drops his head back on his neck and stares at the street light overhead, groaning into the bluish-white glow. Why? Why do they have to re-hash this here? Kurt’s tired. His ears are ringing, he smells like sweat and hairspray, and there’s no way he can go back inside to rejoin his group without being asked about a hundred times if he’s okay, if everything’s okay, how are things with Sebastian, you know he doesn’t deserve you, so he just wants to get in the car and head home.

But Sebastian’s not about to let that happen, so here it goes:

“No, Sebastian,” Kurt says, defending himself against an argument they’ve had countless times before. “That’s not it. I love you. I want you to come out with me. I want you to hang out with me and my friends. I just don’t need you treating everyone I know like crap.”

“I don’t treat everyone like crap, babe,” Sebastian says, inching closer, hoping that he can get this night back on track, back where _he_ wants it to be, before Kurt kidnaps the car (since Kurt is always the D.D., he has the keys) and leaves Sebastian’s ass in this parking lot. “Just the people who deserve it.”

Kurt snaps his head down to look at him.

“And all of my friends deserve it?” Kurt asks, appalled, because Sebastian never just stops at making it sound like Kurt’s friends are idiots, but that Kurt is an idiot, too, for picking idiot friends in the first place.

“Well…” Sebastian leaves his sentence there, with no definitive answer one way or the other. Of course, Kurt knows in detail what Sebastian thinks about his friends.

It’s not very nice.

“You know what?” Kurt reaches into his pocket for the keys, “if this is the way you’re going to behave, then you can…then you can just stay here in this parking lot all night and _suck it_!”

The right corner of Sebastian’s mouth lifts into a half-smile.

He was hoping Kurt would say something like that.

“Challenge accepted.” Sebastian pushes Kurt up against his car and gets down on his knees in front of him.

“What the…what the fuck are you doing?” Kurt reaches down to push Sebastian away, but he’s already got Kurt’s fly down and his (unfortunately) flaccid cock out. Besides, grabbing Kurt’s wrists with one hand is a practiced maneuver of Sebastian’s. He manages it easily.

“I’m going to do what you said,” Sebastian explains, giving him a lick. He tastes sweaty from dancing and sweet from the organic coconut oil he moisturizes with. It’s a combination that makes Sebastian salivate. ” I’m going to suck you off, right here. And if you can remember why you’re upset after that, then I’ll let you go home without me.”

Kurt struggles, taking a step back, or trying to, his ass bumping into the driver’s side door of Sebastian’s car. Sebastian takes Kurt’s cock in his mouth, and Kurt’s body stiffens.

“Sebastian!” Kurt squeaks. “Sebastian, you asshole! Sebastian, don’t you dare! Not out here! Seba…oh…oh _God!_ ”

***

“F-fuck you, Donovan!”

Donovan sneers, brown eyes blazing. He rounds on the bruised woman, in the torn white button down and running black thigh highs, and slaps her again.

“Fuck you, Kitty!” he screams in her ear, snatching a handful of her blonde hair and shaking her till the strands almost rip out of her head. “You fuckin’ bitch! Who do you think you are, huh?” He grabs her face in one hand and squeezes, digging his nails into her cheeks until she yelps in pain. She glares at him, her eyes defiant, blistering through him with as much hate as he throws at her. “Where do you think you are, little girl? Huh? This is _my_ turf, and you work _for me_! You turn tricks _for me_! Got it? You’re _my_ property!” He shoves her away, almost knocking her to the ground. She trips backward, stockings snagging on the rough floor beneath her feet, but she stays standing.

“Yeah?” She brings her fingers up (bloodied where her nails had torn in an initial scuffle between her and one of Donovan’s thugs) to examine her split upper lip, her left eye already swollen shut. “Well, not anymore.”

“Whatcha you gonna do?” Donovan tugs at his collar with one hooked finger, then loosens the knot on his silk tie. Trussed up in a three-piece suit, sporting a hundred dollar haircut, he gives the impression (to those who don’t know him) that he’s a stand-up guy, not this cheap thug who beats on women. It works with most people, but it never worked on Kitty. She knew him for what he was the first moment she laid eyes on him. She knew, and she should have looked at the ground and kept walking.

But she needed the money.

Donovan lunges forward and grabs her by the neck.

“You gonna go off with that Puckerman guy? That dumbass cop? You gonna tell him all about us, aren’t you? You gonna roll over on us, after all I’ve done for you?”

Kitty’s knees instantly turn to rubber. She didn’t know that Donovan knew. She’d been so careful, or so she thought. So this isn’t about her…well, it is, but it’s more about Jake. And now Jake’s in danger. _Fuck!_ She has to think of something. She has to do something quick. She has to protect Jake.

“No, I wouldn’t,” Kitty says, and she means it, but fear slips in and she doesn’t sound too convincing. “I never had any intention of telling him.”

“And why should I believe you, huh?” he asks, squeezing hard, overwrought with rage and a snort of blow. “Why should I? Because you’ve been so fucking loyal to us till now?”

Kitty can barely see his eyes, but she feels him through his voice. He’s gone crazy. Donovan’s come unhinged once or twice, but this - this is fucking frightening.

“B-because I love him,” she says. She realizes too late it’s probably not the best thing she can say, revealing her hand, this one thing that had suddenly become so important to her, that she knew she couldn’t live without. “B-because I…I don’t want you to hurt him.”

But here’s her chance. Donovan likes weak women. It turns him on – whimpering and sniveling, begging for mercy. Maybe she can find a way out of this, if she gives him something he wants.

“Well, then,” Donovan says, pressing his evil grin against her cheek, “maybe you do nice, and I leave you and your little cop friend alone.” He pushes down on her neck hard, forcing her to the ground. “On your knees...and open your mouth.”

***

“Oh…oh God, Sebastian,” Kurt moans, thrusting his hips forward, leaning back on the car to keep from collapsing to the floor. It’s too much…it’s just too much, too good. Sebastian, he’s…he’s just too good at this. “Oh God, oh God, oh God…”

Sebastian pulls away from Kurt’s cock and smiles, looking up at his wrecked boyfriend with pride.

“So, do you forgive me?” he asks, teasing the head with his tongue while he waits for an answer.

“Maybe,” Kurt says, shivering as his spit-covered dick catches the chill from the air. “Not yet. Less talking, more sucking.” He grabs Sebastian’s hair and yanks him forward, with Sebastian chuckling as he takes his boyfriend back into his mouth.

***

“I want you to remember this, Kitty,” Donovan says, sinking his fingers into the sides of her head and fucking her mouth hard, “when you go down on Mr. Cop boyfriend of yours. I’m gonna cum so far down your throat that you’re gonna taste me instead. And then you’re never gonna forget that I got to you first.”

Donovan laughs, thick and black and contagious because other men laugh, too, and a few women - too high and too scared to do anything other than go along with it and pray that they don’t end up in Kitty’s shoes next. Kitty vomits a little, choking on it. She’d stopped being able to breath a while ago, and the world starts to go black, her nostrils burning, her eyes watering, her face bright red but her lips turning a pale blue, stretched tight over Donovan’s cock, the split in her lip spreading, oozing blood.

“Nico,” Donovan calls to one of his flunkies nearby. “Hey, why don’t you take out your phone and record this so we can send it to boyfriend right now?”

Donovan thrusts hard and Kitty retches, eliciting a louder wave of laughter from the men in the room. But inside her addled brain, she panics - lack of oxygen mixed with the fear that Donovan might have Jake’s number, that he might know where he lives, that Donovan could snap his fingers and send someone to Jake’s apartment to pick him up, drag him down here, watch her be raped with a gun to his head, and then…

What would they do to him?

She can’t give them the chance. She has to get away. She has to protect him. She should have known better than to get wrapped up with him. She should have pushed him away – far away.

But it’s too late for that now.

 _Now_ she has to do _something_.

First, she has to breathe. She can’t pass out here. She can’t let them leave her here while they hunt Jake down. But she can’t think. She can’t breathe and she can’t think. So instead, she reacts.

She bites down hard.

“Ow! God…dammit!” Donovan kicks Kitty in the stomach, sending her sprawling to the floor. “Jesus fucking Christ!” With his hand over his cock, he drops to his knees, sucking in deep breaths to rid himself of the throbbing pain. “You…you fucking…you bitch! Nico!”

Nico stomps over from where he’s been laughing in the shadows. Suddenly serious, he whips Kitty in the temple with the butt of his gun. She cries out, curling into a ball, splayed hands covering her bleeding face.

“You never learn, Kitty,” Donovan says, shoving his sore cock back in his pants and zipping up, still unable to stand. “You never fucking learn! I was good to you.” He flicks his eyes at Nico and nods, and Nico whips her again. She cries harder. “I was fucking good to you!” Donovan yells. “But you never learn! And if a bitch can’t learn, you’re not worth anything. Nico.”

Nico looks at his boss, then down at Kitty with a grim smile. He cocks his weapon.

Kitty hears it. She knows what’s going to happen. She knows she can’t stop it.

“Go…to…hell…” she groans, spitting out blood and the shattered pieces of a wisdom tooth. There’s nothing - no way to save Jake. No way to avoid this. It would take an army to save them.

She would do anything in her power to give Jake an army.

She closes her eyes.

Donovan smiles at her surrender.

“You first,” he says. “And then the boyfriend, too.”

Nico puts the barrel to her head.

***

“Oh…oh Sebastian! Yes, Sebastian! Just like…that - Oh _God_ …”

Kurt cums in Sebastian’s mouth, down his throat, his high-pitched staccato gasp hitting the air like a bullet going off in Sebastian’s head. Sebastian chuckles at that picture, of Kurt’s mouth opening and, “Bang!” But it was probably just a car backfiring at an inopportune time. They _are_ outside, after all, which probably explains why Kurt is cumming so hard. Regardless of how he acts, how prim and innocent, how scandalized he pretends to be when he sees two people going at it in a dark alley or a parked car, he can be quite the little exhibitionist slut when he wants to be – with Sebastian, at least.

With his attention trained solely on Kurt, gazing up at him, trying to see Kurt’s o-face, Sebastian could fool himself into believing it was a gunshot he heard. But he stops himself thinking about that because Sebastian loves this part – when Kurt’s body shudders, his cock pulsing and twitching as he shoots into Sebastian’s mouth. Sebastian has always thought that Kurt must be super potent or something because there’s so much of it. Sebastian feels Kurt spurt hot and wet all over his face…but how? Sebastian has his lips locked around his boyfriend’s cock and he’s sucking him dry. There’s no way…

Sebastian shifts his gaze and catches a glimpse of himself in the reflective metallic paint of the Jag. It doesn’t really register at first. It looks like Kurt’s cum, but only for a split second. Then Sebastian’s eyes go wide. His face…it’s covered in blood. Kurt’s blood. It has to be. There’s no other explanation. And that sound, like a gunshot...

It _was_ a gunshot! Kurt’s been shot!

Sebastian pulls back when he hears Kurt groan. Kurt bends forward, his arms wrapped around his waist.

“OhmyGod, ohmyGod, ohmyGod, Kurt!” Sebastian goes to stand, but the ball of his foot hits a patch of loose, wet gravel, and he slides. He falls back hard on his knee, sending pain spiraling up his leg, making him unable to stand. “ _Fuck_! Help! Someone help!” he screams, reaching out to catch Kurt before he falls. “My boyfriend’s been shot! Someone help! Help us, please!”

There’s a ruckus - confused people talking over one another, running his way.

Arms wrap around him. A voice talks in his ear.

“Baby,” Kurt says, kneeling on the asphalt in front of his boyfriend, gathering him up, shaking like a leaf in his arms. “Baby, what’s wrong? Talk to me.” Sebastian can’t answer right away, his muscles turning to Jell-O the tighter Kurt holds on. The gunshot echoes in his head. He remembers the blood streaming down his face, the sound of Kurt in pain…or someone else in pain. A woman, maybe? Whimpering…crying…begging…

For _Jake_?

“It’s alright everybody,” Kurt calls out to the crowd. “It’s okay. No one’s been shot. There’s been a mistake.”

“What?” “What the…?” A few people grumble, stopping short, throwing Kurt and Sebastian an annoyed look before heading back to the club, but even more people sound relieved. If one false alarm is all the excitement they get for tonight, they’ll be glad.

“Are you sure you don’t need 9-1-1?” from a man standing a bit beyond the circle of light created by the street lamp. “Your friend there doesn’t look too good.”

“I’m sure. Thank you,” Kurt replies with a smile, trying to be polite while he fights to ignore the aftershocks of the orgasm that has yet to wane, and the cramp he got in his abs from holding his breath. “We’re good. He’s just…he’s just a little…” Kurt doesn’t know what to say. He’s not sure _what_ Sebastian is right now, actually. Sebastian didn’t have a lot to drink, and he didn’t take anything. What the hell was going on?

But for whatever Kurt didn’t say, the man seems to understand, raising a hand to wave and leaving the two men alone. Kurt watches the crowd disperse, waiting until he knows they’re alone before he tries again with Sebastian.

“Sebastian,” Kurt says, looking into his boyfriend’s face, seeing only his forehead, the bridge of his nose, his eyelashes wet with tears. “What happened, baby? You scared me to death.”

“I…I thought you’d been” - Sebastian swallows around the word. It barely makes it out of his mouth - “shot.”

“Shot?” Kurt asks, surprised. “By who, baby? Who would shoot me? There’s nobody else here.” Kurt turns his head left and right. The parking lot is empty. The sidewalk almost so, and only a few cars drive down the one-way street beyond. He didn’t hear anything while Sebastian was blowing him – no music from the club, nothing out on the street – though he probably would have ignored it.

Damn Sebastian and that tongue of his, making Kurt oblivious to everything.

“I don’t know,” Sebastian says, shaking his head. “I just…”

Sebastian raises his eyes and takes another look at his reflection - desperate to erase that image of himself with blood streaming down his face - and goes into shock. It’s not him. The reflection that should be his is not. It’s a young woman, with long blonde hair clinging to her cheeks; bright blue eyes, red around the rims; and a gunshot wound in the center of her forehead, pouring blood down her pale skin, over her eyelids, her nose and mouth. Her eyes gloss over, half-dead already, but she whispers something he can only read as her lips move.

“I see you,” she says, the faintest hint of a smile on her face. “Remember…” She looks like she’s trying to say something else, but nothing. She’s run out of time. Her eyes roll back, her body falling through space. The image disappears, replaced by his own, which he hardly recognizes.

Tears roll down his cheeks. He can’t get them to stop. He feels like he’s going to be sick, right there in Kurt’s arms.

“What is it?” Kurt asks, concern turning into fear. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

Sebastian doesn’t know why he answers the way he does. It doesn’t make sense, but he can’t think of any other answer. His mind goes completely blank. He shakes his head, tries not to say it, pinching his lips tight and biting them together till they sting, but there’s no way he can’t. He has to let the words out or else they’re going to rip him to pieces.

“K-kitty,” he says, shaking so hard he feels like his body might fall apart. “Someone shot…someone killed…” He shakes his head again, looking at Kurt’s confused face, his worried eyes, searching for any sign that he thinks Sebastian has gone insane. But Kurt doesn’t, because that’s not the man Kurt is. Kurt loves Sebastian. He’ll find a way to believe him. He’ll help him. “Someone killed Kitty, and I…I have to find Jake.”

 

 


	2. Abandoned Warehouses in My Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Warning for anxiety, mention of blood, injuries, and nightmarish visions.

Pacing the living room in his Burberry wingtips, Kurt starts wearing a visible path in the knotty pine floor. He holds his cell phone to his ear with his right hand, and kneads his pinched brow with the fingers of his left. A song by Imagine Dragons plays over the line while he waits for someone to pick up, and Kurt has to tighten his grip on his phone to keep from throwing it across the room. _Fucking ring back song_ , Kurt thinks. He can never remember the words to this one, so it becomes irritating when it goes on too long.

The song cuts off when the man he called picks up, and Kurt pounces.

“Chase?” he says when he hears a tired, “Hello?” come through the receiver. “Yeah, we got home alright. Listen, I have a question - did you see anybody slip something to Sebastian tonight? What? No, it’s just…something happened to him when we left, and I’m a bit worried…Kevin? You think Kevin maybe...That rat bastard! No, I won’t tell him you said anything…Okay, thanks…He will be, but I’ll let Sebastian know.”

Sebastian listens from the bedroom as Kurt disconnects that call and starts immediately on another, barely letting the poor sap on the other end of the line say, “What’s up?” before Kurt tears into him.

“Kevin…yeah, hey…no, I’m not really doing all that good. Look, tell me honestly - did you give Sebastian something? Because if you did, I need to know what it was in case I have to take him to the hospital...No, I am not joking. I’m damn serious, Kevin. Something happened to him tonight, and it messed him up…Well, he was acting like he’d dropped something, except I know he didn’t because I was with him all night…No, I don’t care what you think! If you put something in his drink and I find out about it, I swear to God, I’m going to break into your apartment and pop the buttons off every one of those tacky Dolce and Gabbana shirts you think go with everything…then I’m going to kill you!”

Sebastian chuckles into his pillow, nearly giving himself away. He’s supposed to be asleep. He thought after he got home he’d be well on his way.

Sebastian had been a mess in the parking lot, even after the specter of Kitty had faded. No matter how hard Kurt tried, no matter what he said to soothe his boyfriend, what he promised he’d do to make things better, he couldn’t get Sebastian to calm down. Kurt managed to get Sebastian into the car, and ended up driving them home, while Sebastian did the only thing he could do. He passed out for the entire ride, not opening his eyelids an inch until they got back to Sebastian’s penthouse. The whole trip home, Sebastian’s mind stayed blank, up until he had to wake up. Then the visions came back to him, snapping at him in succession, and when he regained consciousness, he knew what he had seen in the parking lot wasn’t a hallucination.

It was real.

Somewhere in the world had been a woman named Kitty, and Sebastian had witnessed her murder. He saw her get shot. He saw her bleed. He watched her die.

And even though she was dead, somehow she needed his help.

 _Jake_ needed his help.

Sebastian had to find Jake.

These are facts, clues to a puzzle he doesn’t understand, but he has an urgent need to solve.

He feels like lives may depend on it. Lives close to him.

When they got home, Kurt put Sebastian immediately into a shower, and after multiple assurances that he’d be okay, left him alone to bathe - to cry or scream, whatever he needed to do. He made Sebastian a mug of steamed milk, not because Sebastian likes it, but because Kurt couldn’t make him coffee, and he needed something to do, otherwise he might have a mini-break down himself. Sebastian finished with his shower, and Kurt sat with him on their bed while he drank. Then Kurt tucked him under the comforter, and kissed him goodnight.

Kurt goes into Mother Hen mode when he needs to. Usually Sebastian hates the caregiver bullshit, but this time he needed it.

He needed to know that Kurt was in his corner, and he was. He didn’t judge Sebastian for his break down. Sebastian knew Kurt wouldn’t. He tried to explain what he meant about Kitty and Jake, the things that he saw, even though he had no rational way of explaining them or understanding them. Kurt listened, and he tried to make sense out of it, but Sebastian was in no condition for a lengthy discussion on the subject. So Kurt sat beside him in silence, holding his hand until his eyes grew heavy, only leaving him when he felt sleep was inevitable, but as soon as Sebastian heard Kurt leave the room, he opened his eyes again. He couldn’t relax. He was spooked. He knew he was at home, in his penthouse, but he felt detached, disconnected, like part of him was somewhere else.

He was afraid that other part might be with Kitty.

He didn’t want to close his eyes. Every time he did, he saw Kitty staring back at him, as if she was sitting right in front of him, holding his hand instead of Kurt, whispering in his ear the same words over and over – _“Find Jake. Help Jake. Please, do this for me.”_

Sebastian knows he isn’t going to sleep tonight. He’d stay up if he had to put lit out cigarettes on the back of his hand. He can’t see her again – her eyes growing dim as the life inside them goes out; the hole in the center of her forehead, breathing smoke; and all that blood, gushing down her face and painting streaks on her skin.

Her _pale_ skin. Pale like Kurt’s. With lifeless eyes, blue like Kurt’s. It’s too easy to mistake Kurt for her, or her for Kurt, in Sebastian’s traumatized mind.

When Kurt thought that Sebastian was finally drifting off, he stepped out into the living room and started making calls to every friend they’d hung out with at the bar that night, determined to find out if someone had slipped Sebastian something without them knowing. Sebastian had already told Kurt that he didn’t think so. In the beginning, Sebastian couldn’t be 100% sure, but something deep down in his bones said that this wasn’t a bad trip. Whatever he saw, as inconceivable as it seemed, was real. But that was the way Kurt worked. It’s not that he wasn’t open to the possibilities, it’s just that he needed to eliminate the easily explainable first.

And regardless of how Kurt had defended them during his fight with Sebastian in the parking lot, he wasn’t afraid of dumping every friend he had to protect his man.

Sebastian loves that about him.

Kurt makes his final phone call, berates his last “friend”, and decides to pack it in for the night. He takes a quick rinse off and climbs into bed. He doesn’t want to leave Sebastian alone. He wraps Sebastian up protectively in his arms, and holds his boyfriend against him. As far as Kurt is concerned, whatever wants to hurt Sebastian, mess with his head and tear him to pieces, is going to have to do it over Kurt’s dead body. Lying in Kurt’s arms, soaking in the heat from Kurt’s body, fresh from the shower, filling him with warmth and comfort, and a sense of love that blankets all, Sebastian is almost fine to go to sleep. He can just about fall out into a dreamless oblivion, with Kurt there as his anchor, tethering him to reality. As long as he’s with Kurt, everything can return to normal again.

Everything will be fine.

“Kitty…”

Sebastian hears the voice in his ears, weaving in and out of his head, buzzing through his sinuses. But then he hears it far away, traveling off into the distance. He shifts his eyes, looking around as much as he can without disturbing Kurt’s sleep, but he doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Just his half of the bedroom, dimly lit from the glow of a light outside.

 _Kurt forgot to close the blackout curtains,_ Sebastian thinks. But then the light turns blue, and it flickers, like a bulb from something outside has begun to burn out.

“Ja-ake,” a voice sings back. “Come get me, Jake…”

Sebastian feels himself get up and start walking, but he’s also lying in bed beneath Kurt’s distressed print comforter, with his boyfriend’s arm draped over his torso. Sebastian’s footsteps start to drag, becoming heavy and loud, like he’s wearing metal-soled shoes, walking across a hard, cement floor.

“Where are you, Kitty?”

A giggle – girlish, childlike – answers his question.

“Don’t make me come and find you.”

“Awww, but finding is where the fun is, Jakey.”

Sebastian hears footsteps run away from him, lighter than his own, and he considers giving chase - why, he has no idea. But then others join them. The first set slows down as the others catch up. There’s a scuffle, then a _thud_ , several _thuds_ , and the giggles turn in to screams.

A loud bang, like a metal pot dropping onto the cement, echoes through the building, except it’s not a metal pot, and Sebastian knows it. He’s heard that sound once tonight already, and he’ll never forget it. A gunshot. It’s a gunshot.

Somewhere in this creepy, deserted building, where Sebastian walks unprotected and alone, someone has been shot.

“Kitty? Kitty!? Oh, God no! Oh, please, no! Kitty!”

Sebastian follows that voice, those cries, even as they bounce around him, making the direction of their source unclear. But he’s not following the sound, he realizes. He’s following the emotion welling up within him when he hears them, when they shoot inside him and poke holes into his soul. He’s following himself, because for a second, he’s the person screaming. He’s the man weeping, tears dripping down his cheeks, wetting a spot on the floor that’s covered in old, sticky blood. Kitty’s blood. Sebastian blinks, and he can see her there, lying with her eyes wide open while everything else about her shuts down.

Crouching beside the stain, holding his hand out as if he’s caressing her face, Sebastian finds a young police officer. The officer looks up, dark eyes scanning Sebastian from head to foot, eyebrows pulled together in the middle.

“Who are you?” the officer asks, putting a hand to his hip, hovering where his service weapon hangs in its holster.

Sebastian should put his hands up, but he doesn’t. He should stop walking forward, but he can’t. What’s going on now shouldn’t be happening, so he figures those rules don’t apply.

“You’re Jake,” Sebastian says. He should be asking, but he doesn’t. He knows he’s right. Jake Puckerman. Kitty’s cop boyfriend.

“Yeah,” Jake says. “How did you…” He stops himself and shakes his head. “Probably the same way I know that your name is Sebastian. There’s a voice, and it whispers in my head when I look at you.” Jake looks away. “It’s _her_ voice.” Jake stands up, looking at Sebastian one more time, noticing his clothing, or lack thereof.

“Yes,” Sebastian says, acknowledging the truth of what Jake said. There is a voice. It’s not so clearly defined, but it’s there, and it belongs to Kitty. This voice links the two of them together – him and Jake, and Sebastian fears it will never go away.

Having the voice of a dead woman in his head is not the way he wants to go insane.

“What are you doing here?” Jake asks, brushing his hands together and clearing away the dust that attaches to everything the second you walk into the place.

“I…I don’t know,” Sebastian says. “I mean, I assume I’m dreaming, and that you’re part of that dream...”

“Yeah, well, that’s going around.” Jake sounds frustrated. He sweeps his eyes around, except they’re no longer in the dusty, abandoned warehouse. They’re in Sebastian’s bedroom, and Sebastian is still in bed with Kurt. “Nice place. Is that a real Mitchell painting?” he asks, motioning over Sebastian’s shoulder. Sebastian knows what painting Jake’s referring to, but he looks over his shoulder anyway to make sure it’s there, that they’re back at his penthouse, which he is for a second, but when he looks back, he’s with Jake in the warehouse, the switch happening so fast Sebastian’s head throbs.

“Yeah. It’s my…boyfriend’s…” Sebastian isn’t sure he should have mentioned Kurt, or that he should tell Jake anything more than he already knows.

“He’s got excellent taste,” Jake says with a nod.

“I’ll tell him.” Sebastian doesn’t ask how Jake knows the things that he knows. Sebastian doesn’t really _want_ to know. This is his dream. There. That’s a nice, tidy answer.

“This was our place,” Jake says, looking down at his feet, at the ground beneath him, paths he’d walked many, many times to get to the woman he loved. He could do it in the dark.

He just didn’t do it fast enough this time.

“What?” Sebastian says, looking up and around at the building. “You guys _lived_ here?”

“No, but we met here,” Jake explains. “This spot is on my beat, so when we started seeing each other, she knew I’d be here eventually. She’d wait for me.” Jake reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. Swiping the screen, he brings up a picture of a young woman looking into the camera, with bright, blues eyes, wavy blonde hair falling in front of her face, and a sneaky twist of a smile on her gloss-painted lips.

“Is that…Kitty?” Sebastian asks.

“Yeah,” Jake says. “Kitty Wilde. She was my girl, but I guess she belongs to all of us now.”

“Us?” Sebastian asks, a lump filling his throat. He’d had a suspicion, a feeling there were more, not just him, but he wasn’t certain. “Who’s _us_?”

“You, me, them,” Jake says with a sigh. “You’ll see them. They’ll see you. You’ll find them…even when you don’t want to. She gave them to us, now they’re ours, and we have to take care of them.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re being hunted.”

“Hunted? By who?”

“By the men who killed Kitty,” Jake says. “The _real_ men who killed Kitty, not just the ones that put the bullet through her head.”

Sebastian sees white flashes coming from Jake’s eyes, projecting images in his head.

Kitty, wearing a hospital gown, handed a small paper cup of pills that she tosses to the floor, followed by a glass of water that she bats out of an unseen nurse’s hand.

Kitty, tossing and turning on a gurney, her nose swollen and bloody.

Kitty, struggling to escape, while men in white coats strap her to a bed.

A doctor giving Kitty a shot in the arm, her blue eyes glowing a metallic silver, and then bleeding at the corners.

Sebastian shakes his head to get the images to stop, but they come at him faster, thoughts that belong to Jake, thoughts that belonged to Kitty, thoughts that belong to people he hasn’t met, their voices overlapping, some trying to get his attention, others wondering the same thing he is – What’s going on? Why me? Why did this happen to me? I’ve never even met this woman! I want this to stop _right now_!

“Wait!” Sebastian says, expressing out loud what he and all those other voices are thinking. “I didn’t sign up for this! I can’t do this!”

Jake looks back at him, his face blank, his eyes exhausted, his mind done. Sebastian can feel it.

“If not you,” Jake says, “then no one.”

“No,” Sebastian says firmly. “I can’t. Look, I’m sorry about Kitty. I really am. But I can’t do anything about it, and I can’t help you.”

“You have to, Sebastian.” Jake says it like, no matter what Sebastian decides he wants, he has no choice.

“Why? Why do I have to?” Sebastian argues. “I was doing just fine until you guys dropped into my life. I didn’t ask for this. No one told me I’d have to take care of anyone other than myself. And guess what? Aside from me in my life, there’s only room for one other person, and that’s him.” Sebastian gestures to Kurt over his shoulder with a tilt of his head. “What’s in it for me, huh? Why should I help you?”

“What’s in it for you?” Jake laughs dryly. “You get to live, that’s what’s in it for you. Because, if they find us, they’ll kill us.” Jake’s gaze flicks past Sebastian’s shoulder before returning to his eyes. “Him, too.”

Sebastian jerks his head around to look at Kurt, confused as to why they’re suddenly back in his bedroom, with Sebastian sitting up in bed and Jake seated on the edge of his mattress. Sebastian sees the sleeping man behind him, eyes closed, unconscious to the bizarre episode Sebastian’s having at this moment.

“Except what they want, they want from you,” Jake adds, “so they might not let _him_ off so easily.”

Sebastian doesn’t want to know what Jake means, but his mind becomes fraught with images of violence, torture, of what happened to Kitty before she died – beatings, rapes, ligature marks, rope marks and burns on her wrists, her ankles, her arms and her legs, dug in deep. Bruises on pale skin that could be Kurt’s. Festering red blisters on hands that could be Kurt’s. Blackened skin around blue eyes that could be Kurt’s.

Kurt – Sebastian’s safety net, his rock. They had such a relatively blasé life until about nine hours ago. How did things take such a weird turn? Why are they all of a sudden in danger?

Sebastian thinks Jake might know. How can he not if he’s sitting right here? Sebastian doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want to be a part of this at all. Maybe Jake can get him out of this...somehow. Maybe he knows the remedy, the antidote to this…this…whatever it is he has now.

Sebastian turns back to Jake. He has to ask him these questions. He needs to know what to do to keep Kurt safe, because he’ll be damned if his boyfriend suffers the same fate as Kitty.

But Jake – the man who loved Kitty, the man in the police uniform, the man Sebastian is supposed to save - is gone.

 

 

 


	3. An Unintended Foursome

Sebastian can’t sleep.

He shakes all over, shakes too much, like he’s caught a chill beneath his skin that he just can’t shake, even huddled under Kurt’s thick comforter, with his boyfriend’s arms around him. His mind is fractured, his thoughts scattered. He finds it hard to keep track of them, or to hold on to a single one. Thinking about simple things that should keep him grounded – his phone number, his address, his middle name - are painful. Every time he finds quiet, a moment of nothing, _something_ interrupts – a thought, a memory, a voice, a conversation, and almost none of it belongs to him. He thinks about going for a jog, figuring the cold air and physical exertion will clear his head, but he doesn’t want to run into any other ghosts…or worse, the men Jake spoke of. Apparently, the thugs who beat Kitty, raped Kitty, and shot her through the skull _aren’t_ the big baddies. There’s someone else Sebastian has to worry about out there, someone he doesn’t know exists.

Someone he has yet to see.

How does he defend himself, and Kurt, when he doesn’t know who’s after them?

What if these other men have psychic abilities, too? (Does Sebastian really have psychic abilities? He isn’t exactly sure what to call it.) Conveniently, Jake disappeared before he could relay that information. Sebastian tries to call him back, summon him in some way. He thinks about Kitty, pictures her eyes, her face, her voice, her murder, and uses those to try and lure Jake into his mind. He even tries calling out for Kitty, the prospect of actually making contact with her scaring him half to death. But he has no luck on either account, and he feels defeated.

Then there are the others – the people Jake spoke about, the ones that Kitty _gave_ him. Jake had been the first, but he wouldn’t be the last. There were more than just him, and they could show up at any time - in Sebastian’s penthouse, at his work, or while he’s in the toilet. Or he could be zapped to wherever they are. And then what? What would happen? And when would that be? The uncertainty is maddening. Sebastian hears them, their talking a low hum in his ears. Sometimes they laugh, one of them even screams, but then they’re gone. For hours, there’ll be silence, and then another will come back. He sees things he’s sure aren’t meant for his eyes. He sees the moon, but not over New York City. He sees a restaurant kitchen, smells the scent of cooking veal and garlic. Then nothing. For over an hour, everything goes back to normal except that he’s not, and he knows it. He’s finally ready to try and sleep when he feels a touch on his shoulder. He thinks it’s Kurt. He’s about to say something to him, but he blinks, and suddenly he’s staring into the face of a beautiful, dark-skinned woman, smiling at him (but not at him) with shining brown eyes. It lasts less than a second, and then she’s gone.

Well, he was right before. He’s not going to sleep, and he doesn’t want to be alone. Not that he _is_ alone. He’s destined not to be alone, for however long that lasts. But he needs his boyfriend. He doesn’t just need the distraction, he needs _Kurt_. He needs that connection he has with him – a connection to a person _he_ chose.

He turns in Kurt’s arms, feeling guilty that he’s waking up his boyfriend, who’s been happily asleep this whole time, blissfully dead to the world. At least, that’s what Sebastian thought. But the reality has been much different, hidden from him while he’s had his back turned. Kurt might be lying still, but he doesn’t look calm or at peace - his brow drawn in at the center, his teeth clenched, his jaw tensed from the pressure he’s putting on it. His lips move, angrily telling someone in his head what for. What happened tonight was horrible and frightening for Sebastian, but watching him go through it, helpless to stop it, must have been as bad for Kurt.

Sebastian remembers feeling that same way when Kurt broke his ankle a few years back. Some asshole, racing to get to the subway terminal ahead of Kurt, accidentally tripped him, and Kurt tumbled headfirst down the cement stairs. Sebastian received the call when Kurt was en route to the hospital. On his way to meet him there, Sebastian got caught up in a net of unfortunate mishaps. He had driven over a nail on his way to work. His right front tire had a slow leak, and it was flat by the time he reached the parking garage, so he was forced to take public transportation. His bus got stuck in traffic. His train broke down. The taxi he caught ended up behind a three car pile-up. It was a mess, and the whole time, Sebastian felt too far away. Useless. When Kurt came home, things didn’t get much better. Sebastian isn’t a patient man, but Kurt is worse. He wouldn’t sit still. He was determined to keep working. He did everything the doctor told him _not_ to do. Sebastian began to think Kurt was doing it out of spite, to punish him for not being with him when he fell, or for not getting to the hospital fast enough. Then, after the cast on his ankle came off, Kurt almost re-broke the joint again. Sebastian had seriously begun to wonder what he’d gotten himself into by getting involved with this man.

Looking at Kurt, his eyes closed, feverishly defending Sebastian to the voices nagging his brain, Sebastian knows. Kurt is the most wonderful, most compassionate, most caring man that Sebastian has ever met. It’s ironic that they’ve gotten to this point – living together, their lives so thoroughly intertwined - considering Sebastian didn’t want to date Kurt at first. Sure, when they met, Sebastian thought Kurt was a hot, funny guy, with a lot of sass and a killer ass, but Kurt talked about relationships in terms of years. Sebastian barely saw the same guy after one night. He wasn’t afraid of commitment; he just didn’t want someone else relying on him. He wanted to come and go as he pleased, do whatever without having to consider someone else’s feelings, whether it was jumping on a plane last minute to Venice, or joining in on an orgy with five other guys. In short, he wanted his freedom. But he began to realize, after about three months, that he was only truly free when he was with Kurt.

Kurt was a self-sufficient man. He didn’t rely on Sebastian for anything.

It was Sebastian who had seriously begun to rely on Kurt.

And he’s relying on Kurt to get rid of the fear within him. He needs to have the one person that belongs only to him.

He kisses Kurt, on the cheeks, on the eyelids, on the mouth. Kurt’s lips stop moving, his tirade over, and his eyelids pop open.

“Oh God!” he laughs, gasping as if his heart stopped and restarted in the space of those kisses. “Sebastian! You’re awake. You scared the crap out of me!”

“Did you think it was someone else?” Sebastian kids, but Kurt doesn’t buy into the façade. He sees through Sebastian’s attempt at humor. He knows that Sebastian’s not okay. He felt him tossing and turning, heard him mumbling in his sleep, calling out names Kurt didn’t recognize.

He heard him crying.

“Baby,” Kurt says, putting a hand to Sebastian’s cheek, “what’s wrong? Please, tell me.”

“Nothing,” Sebastian lies. “Nothing’s wrong.”

But Kurt knows better.

“Sebastian,” he says, almost pleading, “you know that whatever it is, whatever’s bothering you, no matter how it sounds, you can talk to me.”

“I know, I know,” Sebastian says, pulling Kurt urgently against him, “but I…I don’t want to talk right now. I just need…” He kisses Kurt’s forehead, his hairline, the bridge of his nose, hoping his actions will speak for him when his mind wants to shut down.

“It’s alright,” Kurt says, moving to fit better against him, returning kisses to his chin, traveling along his jaw to his neck. “I understand.”

Kurt throws a leg over Sebastian’s hip and rolls on top of him, but Sebastian pushes back, pins him to the mattress, and Kurt lets Sebastian have him the way he needs him. Sebastian undresses Kurt first, kissing his way down Kurt’s body. He moves so slowly, he’s gone beyond taking his time, but Kurt doesn’t argue, he doesn’t tease him. He doesn’t say anything when Sebastian’s breathing hitches, when it sounds like he’s choking down a sob. Sebastian makes his way back to Kurt’s chest, his neck, and kisses Kurt’s mouth with his eyes open. He doesn’t want Kurt to disappear. He doesn’t want to end up somewhere else. He needs to live in this moment, needs to figure out a way to keep the magic/spirits/hallucinations from taking over without his permission.

“Oh, God…Sebastian,” Kurt moans when his boyfriend’s fingers explore, tease, dip inside and scissor before slipping out and venturing elsewhere. “Oh, yes, Sebastian. Oh God…”

_“…Santana…”_

It rings in his head, clear as the sunlight seeping in below the curtains, but it’s more than that. It’s imprinted on his skin, in his blood; it turns everything inside him to ice. Sebastian’s first instinct is to stop cold when he hears the woman’s voice moan that name inside his head - not Kitty’s voice, one of _their_ voices - but he keeps going for Kurt’s sake. He doesn’t want Kurt to know anything’s wrong. He’ll want to talk about it for sure, and Sebastian can’t risk that. He moves quickly, spreads Kurt’s legs open, and buries himself inside his boyfriend’s body. Kurt yelps in surprise, and as Sebastian doesn’t seem to be taking his time about things, Kurt wraps his legs around his boyfriend’s hips and holds on tight.

“Oh, God…”

_“…Santana…oh, Santana…”_

“Sebastian, I…I love you…”

_“Santana…”_

“I...”

_“…want you…”_

“…Sebastian…”

_“…Santana…”_

“Fuck!” Sebastian grunts, squeezing his eyes shut and burying his head in the pillow beside Kurt’s left ear.

Kurt moans, wrapping his legs tighter, under the impression that Sebastian’s close to cumming, and he lets himself go with it.

Sebastian takes a breath and holds it. He focuses on his physical presence, and tries to let his body run the show without him while he gets his mind straight, but he made the mistake of closing his eyes…which means he’ll have to open them again, and when he does, Kurt might not be there. But Sebastian can’t hide. The ghosts or whatever will find him eventually. It’s only a matter of time.

He opens them slowly, a sliver with each inhale of breath, hoping he’ll glimpse the unexpected before he has to come face to face with it. He suspects he already knows. He can feel it, a peculiar buzzing in his head, a pinging in his body that wasn’t there before, announcing its arrival. When his eyes open, Kurt is gone. He can still hear Kurt’s voice, his sweet, high moans, his breathy pants, signs that he’s so, so close, but beneath Sebastian is a woman - long, blonde hair spilling over the pillow; blue eyes wide with alarm, but not frightened. She’s completely naked, and he knows that wherever she is, she has to be having sex with someone – with _Santana_ – right at this moment. She gasps when she sees him, surprised, and completely turned on. She’s not Kitty. She’s one of _them_.

“Sebastian,” she whispers.

He shakes his head, muttering, “No, no, no,” and she disappears. He’s looking at Kurt again, head thrown back, hands locked on Sebastian’s forearms, pounding his hips against Sebastian’s body, siphoning the ecstasy from his stilled hips. Sebastian holds on to this image, keeps his eyes open till they burn. He can’t leave Kurt. Kurt can’t disappear.

Kurt swoops up to kiss him, but before their lips touch, Sebastian sees the blonde woman again, and this time, he’s kissing her. She moans into his mouth. It’s delicious, sinful, fulfilling, but he feels himself backing away.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to. He really wants to.

But he doesn’t want to.

Not because he feels like he’s cheating, though he kind of does, even with Kurt right there, unaware of anything going on. This woman doesn’t feel like a separate entity. She’s a part of Sebastian, somewhere inside him. She’s in his head, in his body, flowing through his veins like blood and filling up his lungs like oxygen. She’s in his thoughts, her fantasies aligning with his until not only are he and she having sex on his bed, but somewhere in between what’s real and what’s illusion, Kurt and Santana are making love, too, in this blonde woman’s room, somewhere in California.

Which means that _she’s_ fucking Kurt, and Sebastian doesn’t want that. He wants Kurt for himself. He wanted to keep this one thing for him and him alone. But now that’s gone, too, and he didn’t have a choice. None of this was his choice. This woman, Brittany (he knows because of Kitty’s voice in his head, and her partner enthusiastically calling out her name with every bang of her headboard against some distant wall) is with him, while having an intimate moment of her own, which is why the universe, or whatever, chose this moment to connect them.

_Fuck!_

“Sebastian,” Kurt says, brow wrinkled with concern. “Are you alright? I don’t think you’re cumming, baby.”

“I am,” Sebastian lies, and he hates that it’s becoming a habit.

“Sebastian” – Kurt runs a hand up Sebastian’s arm – “you’re trembling! Are you sure you’re…”

“Can we not talk about this?” Sebastian begs, moving when he realizes he’d stopped and Kurt’s been doing most of the work. “Please, just…not right now.”

“Alright,” Kurt says, pulling Sebastian down to his body. “We won’t talk about it.”

Sebastian nods, thankful that he doesn’t have to explain more than that. He wraps his arms around Kurt’s torso and hugs him till he’s finished, finding too late that closeness he craved.

He can’t let Kurt know. Kurt can _never_ know. This is going to be Sebastian’s secret, Goddammit, no matter what it costs. He’s going to take it with him to his grave.

Kurt cums with his teeth in Sebastian’s bicep, and, “I love you,” on his lips, starry-eyed and sated in Sebastian’s arms, but Sebastian’s orgasm is weak, his head too wrapped up in complicated scenarios and worries and fear. He can’t be carefree with Kurt like this. Not yet. Not with all these people he’s carrying with him.

Maybe not ever again.

 


	4. Saturday in the Park with Rachel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for an implied mention of Finn.

When Sebastian wakes in the morning - or closer to the afternoon - the voices in his head have miraculously gone. Or are temporarily silent. Sebastian doesn’t know which, but he welcomes the break. Despite having a touch of an anxiety hangover, he feels refreshed after finally getting several hours’ sleep, but there’s a heaviness within him, a weight that didn’t exist inside him before, and there’s no one he can ask about it. He’d considered doing a Google search on Kitty’s murder, but he doesn’t want to actually find something, especially if it links her, in some way, to him. He’d prefer it if she disappeared from his memory. In fact, Sebastian should avoid thinking about Kitty or Jake altogether. Even though he couldn’t conjure them the one time he wanted them, he’s afraid that any passing thought of them might lure them out.

Digging around for news about Kitty probably won’t help that any.

He could talk to Kurt, but that wouldn’t give him any answers; it would just needlessly worry his boyfriend more. But after Jake’s warning, would it really be _needless_? Even if Sebastian doesn’t know exactly who may or may not be after him, and by extension, Kurt, shouldn’t he give his boyfriend a head’s up? Sebastian’s not an alarmist, but he wants to keep Kurt safe at all costs. He considers signing Kurt up for self-defense classes. They’d been meaning to go to a class together anyway after Chase got mugged walking to his car after work. Now seems like a good time. Then, in the spirit of self-defense, Sebastian could get him some pepper spray…a rape whistle…brass knuckles…possibly a gun.

Sebastian might also try to talk Kurt into allowing him to get a dog for their place.

A big dog.

The kind they’d have to get a license to keep, that’s trained to rip out jugulars, and only understands commands in German.

But he’s going to put a pin in that and worry about it later. For now, it’s a brand new day. He’ll put the crazy behind him and focus on recovery.

That way, he can better handle the crazy when it shows its ugly grill later on that night.

Kurt’s side of the bed is empty, only Sebastian’s arm stretched across it occupying the space. He doesn’t recall if Kurt mentioned having any appointments for the morning. It’s the weekend, so no, he shouldn’t. Kurt does have one or two clients who feel the world revolves around them. They tend to drop by unannounced, so it’s still a possibility. But no voices in his head means that he can shoot for a redux of their early morning romp, without the inclusion of Brittany, Santana, or any of Sebastian’s other interlopers.

Sebastian raises his head from the pillow and searches the room. Kurt’s cell phone is missing from the table on his side of the bed, which means he’s definitely dressed, and could be out and about. Sebastian turns to the dresser beside him and grabs his cell phone. He unlocks the screen and checks for new text messages.

Not a one.

Strange. Kurt usually doesn’t even go downstairs for the mail without sending Sebastian a text message. A bitter taste rises up Sebastian’s throat and fills his mouth, but he presses it down, along with the anxiety tearing through his stomach.

 _Stay calm_ , he tells himself. _Think this through._

He’ll give Kurt a call, find out where he went and when he’ll be back. It’ll be all good. This is normal. In spite of one discrepancy, there’s nothing to worry about. Kurt’s a big boy; he can handle himself. He probably didn’t go farther than four blocks from the penthouse.

What can happen in the space of four blocks at (he checks the time on his screen) eleven in the morning?

Sebastian pulls up Kurt’s number and hits call.

It goes immediately to voicemail.

Sebastian’s heart thuds so forcefully in his ribcage, he feels a sharp twinge in the muscles of his chest.

Sebastian tries to call him again, then again, but they all go to voicemail.

Something that feels an awful lot like panic starts to flood his body, making being under the blanket too hot and the air around him too cold. He leaps out of bed and takes a quick walk through their place, looking around for signs of Kurt, for clues that something might not be right.

That something might have happened there this morning while he slept.

That someone might have broken in and taken his boyfriend.

But nothing seems off, or out of place. The door is locked in the usual way, Kurt’s coat and keys gone. Sebastian walks by Kurt’s office area, the space in their living room where he meets with his clients, everything tidy and organized, as usual.

 _Kurt’s fine_ , Sebastian tells himself, still with a knot like hot iron forming in his gut. _He didn’t go far. He’s most likely at Starbucks, grabbing a cup of coffee and one of those breakfast buns he likes so much. He’ll be back soon._

And when he does come back, Sebastian can work on getting him back into bed.

But, if it’s that simple, if he just went out for a cup of coffee, why wouldn’t Kurt send him a text?

Sebastian swallows hard, his throat suddenly too dry, and a similar knot as the one in his stomach almost chokes him.

 _This is still not a problem,_ he tries to convince himself. Remove the events of last night - the hallucinations, the voices, a woman being shot through the head - and it’s just another Saturday morning.

Except, those things _did_ happen last night. Slowly, Sebastian’s coming to terms with them, no matter how desperately he wants them to go away. And they’re frightening enough on their own to make all the difference.

An hour. He’ll give Kurt an hour. If he’s not back by then, he’ll call the police.

Fuck, he’ll call the National Guard.

He’s not going to see Kurt end up like Kitty.

Sebastian sends Kurt a text:

_Hey, babe! Get home quick. I’m in the shower. Come join me. ;)_

Then, in the hopes that simply turning on the water will somehow cause his boyfriend to materialize, he jumps into his second shower of the day.

***

For a man who enjoys his time under a hot water spray - and Sebastian’s third favorite thing to do in life is shower - he’s washed up and out in under ten minutes.

“Kurt?”

Sebastian walks out of the bathroom, drying his hair with Kurt’s favorite powder blue bamboo towel, in search of his boyfriend. He thought he’d heard a door close, and footsteps walking across the floor. That had to be Kurt. That’s part of why Sebastian chose Kurt’s towel off the rack instead of his own – to piss Kurt off.

“Kurt? Babe? I thought you were going to join me in the shower.”

Sebastian can’t see anything with the towel hanging in front of his face, but he knows the path from the bathroom to the living room like the back of his hand. He’s naked, and smirking at the thought that Kurt might be doing a consultation right now. While Sebastian showered, he figured that the reason Kurt might have sprinted out so early, forgetting to leave him a text, was because one of his _special snowflake_ customers had called him, frantic, on the brink of buying 100 yards of an avocado green, polyester-rayon blend, and Kurt’s only recourse was to go to whatever bargain basement fabric store they were at and talk them down. Then he’d bring them back here to his designing den of safety. Which means Sebastian’s about to interrupt a thrilling conversation about seams and biases (not that he knows what either of those words means, or why they’re so damn important that Kurt’s always talking about them) whilst wet and nude.

“Kurt?”

Sebastian takes one step into the living room and a strange sensation hits him – the sensation that he’s not alone, which he assumed, but also that his boyfriend isn’t there either. But there’s _someone_ in the room with him – a presence more than a person. That doesn’t make any sense, but that’s it regardless. He doesn’t hear the woman sitting on the sofa as much as he _feels_ her. There’s an odd sound in his head, like an alert, a low hum, and he just knows she’s there.

He pulls the towel off his head to wrap around his waist and there she is, sitting on the sofa, staring out the picture windows. If her hair was lighter and taller, he might fool himself into thinking he’s looking at Kurt. But he’s not. He’s looking at a petite brunette, wearing a white rain coat covered in cherries, a red umbrella in her lap and a matching red scarf, as if she’s waiting for a bus outside, not sitting on a sofa in a Manhattan penthouse.

She reminds Sebastian of a ghost. He can see her. She’s definitely corporeal, but there’s something about her that kind of fades in and out of existence, even if she doesn’t disappear, as if her physical presence is waning in his mind.

He decides to talk to her. No, he doesn’t decide as much as he feels compelled. He knows she’s not going anywhere until he does. This woman, whose reflection he can see in the glass as he gets closer, stares impassively at the building across the way, but her mind is somewhere else. She’s not there as much as she _is_ there, and yet, still _not_ there.

It gives him a headache thinking about it, so he stops thinking.

Sebastian walks over to the sofa and sits down, careful to keep the towel from untying at his hip and causing a scene. He squints at the woman sitting beside him, and an empty recognition of sorts hits him. “You’re…are you Rachel?”

He’s almost tempted to touch her. Maybe he’s wrong. Maybe she’s a client of Kurt’s. She looks like the kind of person who regularly comes to see Kurt for a design – primped, manicured, heavily into vintage couture, like she stepped out of a Broadway musical, about to perform some catchy reflective musical number. Sebastian can picture her singing something Streisand-esque, like from _Funny Girl_.

Sebastian chuckles to himself. _Funny Girl_. He has definitely been dating Kurt Hummel for _waaaaay_ too long if that’s the first thing that jumps to his mind.

Sebastian should really consider doing something about that, like getting around to asking Kurt to marry him.

But he digresses.

“Yeah,” the woman says, looking at Sebastian through darting side-glances of her soft brown eyes, not turning her head to face him. “And you’re Sebastian.”

“That’s right,” he says, a bit unnerved. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m not here,” she says with slight confusion. “I’m in Central Park, at the duck pond.” This time she does turn to look at him. “Have you been there?”

“No,” Sebastian says. “I can’t say I have.”

“You should,” she says, looking back out the window. “It’s beautiful.” Suddenly, an image of Central Park fills Sebastian’s vision – the clear blue sky overhead, the trees, the grass, children running and playing, people walking their dogs, and ahead of him, a large pond, with families of ducks and ducklings paddling across the surface, filling the air with their quacking. She looks much more in place out here, but him in his towel and wet hair, _he_ shouldn’t be there. And then what she said made sense. He’s _not_ there. She’s there. And because she’s there, he’s there, but he’s also in his living room with her, who’s not there. Another headache. He lets it go. “I used to come here all the time,” she continues, “with my fiancé before…”

Her words trail off, and for a second Sebastian feels a pain in his chest, like someone, for the sliver of a moment, tried to drill a hole in his heart. It’s powerful, debilitating. It takes his breath away. But the second he can articulate it, it’s completely gone.

“Before?” he asks hesitantly, afraid the pain will return if she can find a way to explain it.

“Before he passed away.” She tilts her face to the side and away when a little kid runs up to her, chasing a baseball. The boy, probably no more than five, with sandy brown hair and bright blue eyes, looks up at her. He looks like he might see Sebastian as well, because he kind of scrunches his nose and giggles, then turns and runs back the direction he came.

“I’m…I’m sorry to hear that,” Sebastian says, feeling what might be the start of tears and wondering with a fervor where in the fucking hell his boyfriend went. “But, what are you doing _here_?”

“I’m not sure,” she says. “I was feeling lost, and alone. I was walking through the park on my way to…somewhere.” She laughs and shakes her head. “You know, I can’t remember where. And I sort of ended up here.” She shakes her head again and looks at him, the tears he feels in his own eyes rolling down her cheek. “Has that ever happened to you?”

“I don’t know” - Sebastian reaches behind him and pulls a tissue from the box Kurt keeps there - “I don’t think it has.”

She takes the tissue with a quiet, “Thank you,” and dabs at her eyes, skillfully avoiding her mascara. “Well” – she sniffles – “what were you doing a moment ago?”

“I was…” Sebastian chuckles ironically. “Well, I was missing my boyfriend. But, I think he just stepped out to go get coffee or something. He should be back any minute.”

Rachel smiles sadly.

“You’re lucky,” she says. “Do you love him?”

The question strikes Sebastian as insanely personal, but he doesn’t hesitate to answer.

“Yes,” he says. “More than anything.”

She nods approvingly. “Well, when he comes back, make sure you hold him, and kiss him…” - Words start to fail her, becoming strained – “look in his eyes….smell his skin…” Another tear rolls down her cheek. “I don’t…I can’t remember what my fiancé smelled like, or what he sounded like. I used to at least remember the sound of his voice saying my name, but I…I don’t anymore.”

Sebastian is about to say he’s sorry – another hollow apology, he thinks, and how many of those has she gotten already - when the pain returns, hitting him full force in the chest, locking around his heart and squeezing. A dozen memories flash through his skull, memories that aren’t his, of a man with brown hair and eyes, playing football, dancing badly, singing, playing the drums, laughing, riding on a roller coaster, chasing after a train with Rachel on it, wearing army fatigues, cleaning a rifle, and then…black. Nothing. But then the whole thing travels in rewind, except the man is gone and it’s Kurt this time – playing football, dancing, singing, playing the piano, laughing, riding with Sebastian on the Ferris Wheel at Coney Island, watching Sebastian from an airport window as his plane takes off, and then, not black, not nothing, just…over.

“Finn…” Sebastian says through a throat constricted so tightly he can barely take a breath.

“Kurt…” Rachel whispers.

“Sebastian,” Kurt calls out, opening the door to the penthouse. “Sebastian, are you awake?” Kurt spots Sebastian over his Whole Foods shopping bag, sitting on the sofa, staring out the window, and smiles. “I’m sorry I took so long,” he says, heading for the kitchen. “I just had to go get some _unf_!”

It takes about five strides for Sebastian to cross from the living room to the kitchen, grab the shopping bag out of Kurt’s hands, drop it on the counter, and wrap Kurt in his arms.

“Well, hello there, handsome,” Kurt says with a laugh, grimacing as he feels the remaining shower water on Sebastian’s skin soak through his cashmere sweater. “I missed you, too.”

Sebastian doesn’t answer. He holds Kurt tighter and now, Kurt can tell he’s shaking.

“Sebastian? Honey, are you okay?”

Sebastian sniffles, loosening his grip, but not exactly letting go.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I just…you didn’t text me or anything, Kurt. Why didn’t you text me? Or call? I called you, Kurt. I called you three times.”

“I…I’m so sorry, Bas,” Kurt says, massaging the back of his boyfriend’s neck to calm him. “I took my phone with me, but the battery died. I have to remember to plug it in when I get home.”

“Oh” – Sebastian sighs in relief, then breathes in deep, capturing the smell of cold on Kurt’s skin, but underneath that, his aftershave, his body wash, his shampoo – those signature scents that are a part of Kurt, always on his skin – “I guess that makes sense.”

“Sebastian?” Kurt tries to pull away, but Sebastian won’t let him. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah. I’m fine, but…uh…could you maybe wake me up next time? Before you go out?”

“I thought you needed you rest,” Kurt explains. “I mean, after this morning…” A tiny smile slips on to Kurt’s lip, since this morning included incredible, spontaneous sex for him, but the memory makes Sebastian cringe, a piece of his conscience breaking for what he’s unknowingly gotten Kurt in to.

“I know,” Sebastian agrees, “but I really wanted to go with you.”

Kurt raises a skeptical brow.

“You wanted to come with me?” Kurt says. “To Whole Foods?”

“Yeah.” Sebastian knows how ridiculous that sounds. Before he started dating Kurt, Sebastian had his groceries delivered. The last time he actually set foot inside a supermarket, he was in high school, and he was with his mom. “I needed some…uh…arugula.”

Kurt’s head bobs in a sort of repetitive half nod as he tries to figure his boyfriend out.

“I…didn’t know,” Kurt says, condescendingly, but not intentionally. “I promise I will wake you up next time. Maybe we can go out together later and get that…arugula.” He pats Sebastian on the shoulder, deciding to chalk this odd behavior up to Sebastian’s horrible night. Kurt’s still not entirely sure what happened, but he thought he could take Sebastian’s mind off some of it with a smoked gouda quiche and champagne brunch, and then take a second stab at trying to make his boyfriend cum, since he hadn’t when they had sex before.

Food and sex were a panacea to Sebastian. Once, when they were in college, after a hardcore tackle football game, they ordered the most incredible five cheese and fire roasted pepper pizza, brought it home, ate it, and then had three hours of the hottest sex imaginable. Combined, it was such a mind-blowing experience, that Sebastian didn’t have a clue he’d broken a toe during the game hours before.

Kurt had considered waking Sebastian up with a blowjob before he left, and then inviting him to come with, but Sebastian had finally fallen asleep. Kurt didn’t want to wake him. When he saw his battery dead at checkout, he hoped Sebastian would still be asleep when he got home.

Basically, the morning was an epic failure.

Sebastian tries to stop shaking, but he can’t. He’s not sure if he’ll ever stop. He doesn’t want to look over his shoulder, doesn’t want to know what he already knows. But eventually, in an effort to salvage the day from here on out, Kurt finds a way to untangle from Sebastian’s grasp, and starts talking about random things, like the high price of artichokes, and the unavailability of Queen Bee honey.

Sebastian follows Kurt with his eyes, staring intently, telling himself that no matter what, he won’t look. He doesn’t need to look. He’ll avoid the sofa – no, the living room – for as long as they live here. But Kurt bustles to his work space over by the windows, and Sebastian can’t put it off any longer. He looks back at the sofa, but the woman in the cherry print raincoat is gone.

Like Jake earlier that morning, and Brittany after that, she’s vanished.


End file.
